


Vigilante

by The_Shipping_Persona



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (Date: Mon, 2009 Dan Howell(mentioned), 2009 Phil Lester (mentioned), 2010 Dan Howell, 2010 Phil Lester, 6), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, But I am not giving up on this, I promise I'm still working on this., I really do. I have so much planned., M/M, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags will be added as we go, Things have been busy, Vigilante PJ Liguori, Vigilante Phil Lester, and writers block., may - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-09-16 01:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16944549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Shipping_Persona/pseuds/The_Shipping_Persona
Summary: When Dan finds himself being targeted by some group of ill-intent in this super powered world he would probably be dead if it wasn't for a certain vigilante. He can't help himself from thinking that maybe being a vigilante would be much better life than law school. Even if vigilante work is seen as illegal.Hopefully they can find out who is targeting Dan first, and why.





	1. Prologue!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first story to publish on AO3!

Dan shrugs his shoulder bag in place with all his books from University and walks through the dorms with the crushing weight of unhappiness. He opens the door and slams it shut. He shoves the bag onto the floor and doesn't get a moment more before he lays down onto the cold floor debating the meaning of his existence.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, but he doesn't particularly care. He hates law school. He wishes to just go home. His phone vibrates again and is it ringing on vibrate? Since when does he put his ringer on vibrate? He shoves his hand into his pocket ready hit the decline button. He looks at caller id before he does so. Unknown. So, he slams one clumsy finger down on that red button and places his phone on the floor. If it’s important they’ll call back, or even worse they’ll leave a voicemail.

He closes his eyes and existence is so weird and unexplainable. Why do humans have super powers if there isn’t some overlord deity to defeat? Superpowers didn’t always exist right? Miss him with that 1900 outbreak of superpowers.

His phone vibrates again, and he picks it up and stares at it from his odd position on the floor. Caller ID still is unknown.

Should he answer it?

He hesitantly presses the answer button, it could be important. He reluctantly gets off the floor and holds it near his ear.

“Hey, be careful. One of my co-workers apprehended someone with your name on their target list. I do wonder what gets you on these things.”

“Excuse me?” Dan hears rustling on the other hand.

“What? Don’t remember me?” They sound pouty.

“Should I? It’s possible you got the wrong number?”

“What a way to treat someone who saved your life, Daniel Howell.” They seem more exasperated, than angry.

“Saved my life-“ That vigilante!

_“How many times do we have to shut you up?” asked a cheery voice. They plucked something into existence and gripped it tight. It was green almost like a vine. The man attacking Dan reeled back and turned his head to the figure cloaked in shadow._

_The attacker growled, annoyed by the intruder. “Seriously annoying you lot.” He said as he turned towards the cheery-voiced person._

_“Trust me your way annoying than I am!” The person smiled, and Dan found himself a little shocked._

_“Hey there,” The person waved towards Dan. “You might want to move.” Well, this was awkward._

_The attacker moved closer to Dan and rested the  blade of his knife close to Dan’s neck._

_“Your ridiculous,” The figure rolled their eyes. Like one brilliant whip they swung their vines into the air and it latched around the man’s wrist. With a tug the knife swung out of his hand and hit the floor. The attacker tipped over._

_The figure, more like savior, kicked the knife out of reach._

_They tied their vines around the attacker’s wrist, mouth and legs, and promptly knocked the attacker out._

_Dan winced, “He’s not dead, is he?”_

_They rubbed their hands together, “No just unconscious.”_

_“Anyway, are you hurt?” No, he just feels like never going outside ever again._

_“I was about to be.” He replies._

_“He won’t be bothering you again. We’ll keep an eye out for you to protect you if this ever happens again.” They crouch down beside the fallen foe and pull out the attacker’s wallet._

_This feels like a business deal and it’s odd._

_“Okay.” Awkwardness strikes again._

_The person is pulling something out of the attacker’s wallet and inspects it. They don’t seem interested in the money though. They pull out a card and lifts it up to the light to see it better. “Do you know why he was after you though?”_

_“No, no I don’t.” He replies._

_“If your sure.” They go to walk away._

_“Hey, wait!” Dan shouts hand out in some weird attempt to grab them._

_“Our team will be picking him up to transfer him somewhere so don’t worry about that- “_

_“No, I mean Thank you!” Dan shouts._

_Their interesting eyes turn towards him. “Oh.” That’s all they say in this tense silence. Adrenaline seems to be fading away from Dan. He is sweating, panting and really relieved right now._

_“Don’t worry about it. Your name is Dan right, says so on the target list.”_

_“I was on a target list!?”_

_The person flashes the card they stole from the persons wallet. “Yep.”_

_“Holy shit, what the fuck?”_

_The person winces. “Sorry, probably shouldn’t have told you that.”_

_“Don’t worry about it though we’ll protect you if they come after you again.”_

_“I’m never going outside again oh my god.”_

_The person chuckles, “That’s fair but try not to live your whole life in fear.”_

_“Or I could, but what’s your name?”_

_“Classified information.”_

_“That’s a unique name.” Dan jokes awkwardly._

_“Ha-ha, I can tell you my pronouns though and that’s about it for now.” For now, Dan notes._

_“Uh sure, mine are He/him.” Dan says awkwardly._

_“Same,” His savior replies. “I got to go, you should too.”_

_“Or I could escort you home if you wanted me to.” Did he just wink at Dan?_

_“Sure.” Dan replies, it be safer. They walked home together, and despite almost dying that walk was like the most fun he ever had. Even if the business and bleakness of Uni almost made him forget it entirely._

“OH.” Dan blurts out.

“Oh,” The vigilante echoes, dully.

“Well excuse me, I wasn’t really given a name.” Dan should really watch his words around people who have the power to kill him. He just hopes that his playful jab and smiling was made clear on the other end.

It seems to, because the vigilante chortles and the line rustles and his giggle gets muffled. Dan imagines that’s probably his hand.

“Though seriously,” The vigilante begins. “3 times already your name has been on a target list.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me? When?” Dan rushes out.

“The first time is what lead me to saving your life the first time, the second time is when I stole that card, and the third time is what I already told you about with my co-worker finding your name.” He explains, and Dan is so confused.

“Why?” He sits down on his bed and begins to fidget with his bedsheets.

“That’s what I’ve been wondering.” The vigilante replies.

“Are you absolutely sure,” He stresses, “That you have no idea why your being targeted?”

Dan stops to think hard for a moment, “Is it because I’m a law student?”

“It’s highly unlikely as the first time you were attacked you weren't a law student yet. Did you ever express a want to go to law school?”

Dan decides to not ask how he knew that. “No, it was more of a last-minute decision.”

“Then it can’t be that,” He says. “It could be a contributing factor for repeated attempts though...” hums the vigilante offhandedly. “I seriously doubt it as that doesn’t explain the first attack.” He grumbles.

“I don’t know, you’re a vigilante, right?” Dan asks suddenly in hopes of learning more about him.

“Yeah, doesn’t mean I know everything.” He replies swiftly.

“I didn’t mean it like that, sorry I just wanted to ask.” Dan trails off, oh why must he be so awkward?

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I’m a vigilante.” There is shuffling on the other end.

“That’s super cool!” Dan cheers, excited. That sounds like a much better life than law school.

“Oh thanks,” He seems happy, but he begins to trail off. “It’s not all that it seems though.”

Dan supposes that’s true, “Fair, I still think it’s cool though.”

“That’s nice. So back on to the topic of finding out why your being targeted.”

Wow did he just get politely blown off?

“Anything else you can think of?”

Dan pauses to think. He doesn't really know, at the time of the first attack he was just walking home from a friend’s place. Did he make anyone mad? Did he accidentally interact with bad people? Did he say something he shouldn't have? Did he say something on the Internet?

He ultimately draws blanks.

“I don’t know at all.” He confesses, and his voice cracks.

“Okay, I believe you.” The vigilante sighs.

“I’m going to keep searching, so hang in there. We’ll be keeping an eye on you.” The vigilante says, and he’s speaking in that tone of voice most people use when they are about to hang up.

“Could we talk again?” Dan blurts out, and why did he do that ohmygod.

“Uh,” The vigilante stutters out, “Sure. I can give you progress reports or tell you if your name is on another card?” The vigilante seems confused.

“Okay,” Dan rushes and takes it as he can in his awkwardness.

“All right then. I’ll call you about...” He hears rustling on the other hand again. “How about every 2 weeks?”

“Sure!” Dan exclaims.

“Now, you’ll find a new contact on your phone at about 8:00 o’clock tonight. It’s an emergency trouble line just in case you’re in trouble.”

“That’s cool, even if you are hacking my phone…” Dan admits.

“Don’t worry about, it’s only a contact.” The vigilante sounds like he's smiling.

“Okay…” Dan replies, feeling a little relieved.

“Well, I've got to let you go.” He hears the vigilante reply.

“Okay, take care.” Dan smiles.

“- Thanks. You too.”

The line goes out, and Dan pulls the phone from his ear.

It’s so weird that he’s getting targeted like this, and he just spoke with an actual vigilante! How cool is that? How do people even become vigilantes? How did _he_ become a vigilante? Damn, he should have at least asked for a nickname.  Maybe next time he’ll ask. He still doesn't want to go outside anymore though.

Should he walk with someone from the dorms to the university? The dorms are like on the other-side of the campus. Would he be safe there, and if he did walk with someone would he be putting another life in danger-?

And before he knows it, he’s rolled onto the floor again, trapped once more in another god damn existential crisis.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A failure in procrastination.

It’s odd Dan thinks, how one can take their personal safety for granted. Like generally, no ones just gonna come up and shank you. Yet the last couple days, as he’s walking down the crappy cobblestone path through his campus, he finds himself actually worrying about that, and it’s terrifying. He took his own personal safety for granted and he has no idea why, or who is targeting him, and what length they are going to go to hurt him.  Are they just gonna attack him in a crowd of people, sneak into his accommodation and murder him while he sleeps, hurt him while he is alone? How does this work?

Meanwhile, he could be just simply overreacting. He only got attacked once, but targeted multiple. Yet if he was on this “target list” recently does that mean he is going to be attacked soon? If the vigilante doesn't show up, how will he protect himself from that? His power doesn't seem particularly strong, and he’s unfit as shit.

Speaking of unfit, as he reaches the top of the stairs, he heaves in gulps of air, with his chest rising and falling rapidly once he stops at the top. Passing students look at him with indifference or with pity. Why does his class have to be located on the 3rd floor?

He walks for what feels like an eternity before finally arriving. His breathing finally slowing to an almost normal pace. The amount of time it takes for him to catch his breath seems to have gotten better since the beginning of the year. God, the first day was awful.

He’s sure, that bloody staircase is the only source of exercise he gets.

~

This course is like being thrown into a shark-infested water and told to swim. If he had known it would be this hard, he wouldn’t have taken it. He is quite tempted to burn the bloody textbook staring up at him. Yet he’d have to buy a new one if he did that.

His phone snaps his attention away from the madness of the textbook and he peers down at it. It then decides to vibrate madly on the desk to the point that it almost falls off his desk, and this time he knows he didn’t silence the ringer. _They_ must do it on purpose. He brings the phone to his ear, and while he wasn’t exactly expecting a warm welcome, he wasn’t entirely prepared for what was next.

“Get out of study hall.” The vigilante says immediately with no time wasted, and he sounds so serious he swears he sees the color red.

“What?”

Geez, the one time he _actually_ studies.

He scoops up his textbooks and stands up hurriedly, this wasn’t the distraction he wanted.

“I’m gonna guide you to your accommodation in a way that will throw off their trail. This is serious, and once you get to your accommodation, I’ll be waiting to remove you from the premises temporarily.”

“Exit and go left.”

A chill goes up his back, and an energy travels through his veins. He walks past wooden tables of studying students, bookcases with various books become a blur from his speed. He opens the door and stops just for one moment. The room gets colder around him, but he doesn’t think anyone noticed. So, he walks through and lets the door close behind him.

 He speeds walks down the hallway. His chest burns, and just before he turns left, he hears the study hall door open and close again.

 “Take a right.” The vigilante says.

He speeds past some computer labs, and the stone walls blur beside him as he walks.

“Go down that corridor, and then take a left once more.”

He turns down a beautiful corridor with long windows that span from the ground to the ceiling. So beautiful, he thinks. he would love to live in a place with those kinds of windows. He walks past the classroom doors and spots the random fake greenery in the hallways that sits in a big vase.

 He passes by a white table with pamphlets advertising healthcare and insurance things probably. He turns left, and the vigilante speaking breaks his revere of adoration. The situation crashes back down around him, and he sucks in a breath.

“See that classroom, environmental studies? Go through that door.”

He pushes the door open, surprisingly unlocked.

The door clicks behind him on its own. “Was that you?” Dan asks. He looks about the room. Along the far wall plants rest inside pots next to a bright lamp. Around them a splay of dirt coats the table.

The chalkboard has a big diagram of a plant drawn on it, and there’s a big sink with multiple taps near the corner.

 Gardening gloves hang on a wall near a teacher’s desk with blue watering cans hanging beside it. A big sign is next to these watering cans demands all watering cans must be put away by the end of class. The font is big enough to make out from across the room, which is probably the point.

It’s quite the place, he thinks.

“No, one of my co-workers did it. It won’t hold them off for long. Go through the door to your left. It leads to an indoor greenery.”

He pushes the door open that seems caked with dirt beyond compare. He kind of feels bad for the janitors, he hopes they get paid well at least.

It’s inheriently warm in here, and the room is littered with bright lamps pointed towards various plants. It works for him, and he soaks it up.

“Okay, leave through the greeneries’ door.”

He leaves the room with a slight temperature drop.

He’s now standing in a part of the university he’s never been to before, “Take a right.”

He turns, and begins to speed walk like an idiot, unknowingly, going the wrong way.

 “No, your other right!” The vigilante screeches, alarmed.

Shit, He turns around with his heart hammering in his chest and speed walks down the hallway. The sense of urgency pushes his back up, and his spine tingles with adrenaline, and his chest feels like it’s surging with energy.

Now, The vigilante breaths a breath of relief. “Okay, now keep walking forward.”

He passes by the infirmary, and he clutches his binders close to his chest. “Don’t set your books on fire.” The vigilante says offhandedly.

“What?”

“I did send you through the greenery for a reason.”

“Anyways, take a right. Your getting closer to the back exit.”

He turns right and carries on down the hallway.

“Wait, get into that classroom to your left! Shit!”

He stops, and his hand slips on the handle from his sweat and pushes the door open and slams it closed a little to fast. The door handle rattles.

His head starts rushing, and the door locks closed.

He’s standing, shaking, in a classroom where wooden desks are pushed together to form a big square. There’s a space where a person can walk through. Maybe that’s where the teacher stands. The chalkboards have what looks like math equations inbreeded into it from years of use.

“Okay,” The vigilante breaths, “That was close.”

His heart hammers in his ears.

“Go up to the door on the other side of the classroom. Open it, wait a few seconds, and close it again. Stay inside the classroom, if they fall for it, I’ll let you know.”

Does that mean the attackers right at the door then!? He hurries forward and pushes the other door open, and his heart beats heavily in his ears. The door handle gets hot, and he closes it, and doesn’t move.

The seconds stretch on and feel like minutes. He breaths slowly.

“They fell for it.” The vigilante declares.

Oh, thank goodness. “Go through the door you came through.”

He turns around and hurries out of the room.

“Go and take a left toward the staircase.

He turns left and goes through the double doors that lead to the staircase.

“Your going to go through that door next to the staircase.”

He pushes the door open, and he heaves in the fresh air greedily. He takes it back about the cobblestone path being crappy, he’s never been so happy to see it.

“Okay, walk towards the water fountain. I want you to take a right.”

The water fountain spews water elegantly enough that it produces a nice breeze and smells nice. Tons of coins lay at the bottom with different degrees of rust and decay.

He turns to the right and walks past it. He can see his accommodation in sight. “Good, now keep walking forward.”

He walks down the newly-appreciated cobblestone path. “Turn left.”

He turns away from his accommodation. “I’m going to swing you around the back.” The vigilante explains.

He walks for a good stretch of time. “Turn right, then walk all the way forward to your accommodation.”

He turns, then walks forward briskly passing by trees, and benches dedicated to different people. He finally gets to the side of his accommodation. It’s grimy and bags of trash rest near a dumpster. He hates the heat dumpsters produce, never the hell again will he make that mistake again. He gets to the corner.

“Turn right again.”

He turns to meet a figure standing in shadow against the far wall. He has an earpiece in his ear and a device in his hands.

Cars whoosh past from the road on the other side of the accommodation.

“Hello again.” The vigilante waves offhandedly and goes back to watching the device.

 Dan lowers the phone from his ear and spares the ear-shaped sweat build up on his phone screen a mildly disgusted look before shoving it into his pocket as he moves towards the vigilante.

He peers at the screen he’s holding, it looks like it’s showing heat signatures.

“Look,” The vigilante points to the device in his hands. “It’s kind of funny how confused they are. They’ve walked in about ten circles unknowingly.”

“Your inability to remember left and right actually helped you, nice.”

 “Thanks,” Dan crosses his arms., “glad I did something useful.” He mutters.

“That you did, lets get out of here.” The vigilante smiles playfully.

“Where are you taking me though?” Dan asks nervously.

“I’m taking you to a hotel.” The vigilante replies, “Curtesy of yours truly.” He adds, while presses a hand to his chest and winks. This act quickly crumbles down to a giggle.

“Well,” Dan snorts out a little surprised. “Damn, at least take me out for dinner first.”

The vigilante laughs back and beckons him forward.

“Hold on, and don’t let go.” He grabs Dan’s hand and produces vines and latches onto the nearest lamp post. The vigilante pulls it taught, and the next thing he knows-

They’ve flying.

 “Woah!” Dan shouts, as the vigilante spews more vines out of his hand and vaults them towards the nearest chimney. “This is some Spiderman-esc shit!”

“Fun is it not!” The vigilante smiles loudly over the rush of wind. His eyes are bright, and he smiles wide as latches onto a different rooftop’s chimney.

“Fun is not the word I would use.” Dan mutters, mildly terrified.

The vigilante’s hand comes around his back to secure him in place.

“Don’t you get motion sick!?” Dan shouts over the gush of wind filling his ears as they once more swing through the air. His stomach growls in protest.

“Sometimes,” The vigilante smiles.

They go by fast by the help of various light posts, chimneys, rooftops, and billboards.

The vigilante finally brings them down close to the ground of a tall hotel building.

“Here we are.” The vigilante proclaims, and let’s go of Dan.

His stomach feels queasy, and his knees wobble when his feet hit the ground.

“Geez,” Dan grumbles, pressing a fist to his chest. “I think I’m gonna be sick...”

“Sorry,” The vigilante smiles sheepishly, and pats him on the back.

“There, there.” He smiles serenely. He waits for Dan to catch his breath.

“You ready to go?” He says almost excitedly to Dan.

“Sure.”  

The vigilante grabs his hand and pulls him into the hotel. They avoid the desk, as the vigilante already paid for the room.

They enter an elevator that has a mirror behind them and on the sides. The door slides closed. The vigilante presses one gloved finger on the button that leads to the 15th floor.

Dan turns around. He frowns, his hair is getting progressively curlier from his sweat.

So not fair, he thinks. He’s standing next to a hot guy and his hair decides to do that.

The vigilante looks at the mirror before sharply turning away. The silence is almost tense.

“I like your curly hair.” The vigilante declares randomly, and the tension kind of falls.

“Oh,” He startles, and turns away from the mirror to stare and smile at his shoes. “Thanks.”

“Your welcome.” The vigilante says kindly, Dan can hear a smile in his voice.

“Also,” Dan looks up despite the heat boiling in his face, “Thank you for saving me.”

The elevator comes to a stop, and the doors slide open.

“Your welcome.” The vigilante replies and exits the elevator. Dan follows, and he hears the elevator doors close behind him.

They walk down the carpeted corridor and the vigilante pushes open a door where a key rest inside. The grabs the key and locks it closed.

Dan sits down awkwardly on the bed, while the vigilante closes the blinds.

It’s a two-bed room, Dan notes.

“Are you staying?” Dan asks watching the vigilante pace around the room.

“If you don’t mind.” The vigilante stops and smiles.

The vigilante paces a bit more in thought. It’s like he’s on the phone with someone.

“Are you-“He can totally see that being the case, “Are you talking telepathically with someone?” Dan questions watching amusedly.

The vigilante goes red, “How’d you know?” He recovers squinting at Dan.

“You were pacing,” Dan leans back on his hand and begins to gesture with his other hand. “A lot of people pace when they’re on the phone, and you have that mysterious vigilante group thing going on and people who can magically lock and unlock doors somehow.”

The vigilante tilts his head, “That’s fair.” He seems impressed, score!

The vigilante sits down, and Dan finally looks down at his feet. This whole thing was scary he thinks. He tried to procrastinate away from thinking about his fears and feelings by doing something that is usually the cause of his procrastination, and this was the result. That’s insane.

Dan watches as the vigilante flops onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. The vigilante sighs.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” He turns his head, smiling at Dan.

“Yeah.” Dan furrows his eyebrows at the peculiar man. “Me too.”

The vigilante looks back up at the ceiling.

This moment is mostly odd with the quietness, yet it feels almost serene. It’s a break from the craziness, and to Dan this could be a time to get to know more about this vigilante.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going through TABINOF for some information on their university lives, and in the book "dorms" are called "Accommodations" ^-^


	3. Chapter Two

He can see his reflection in the deeply polished counter-top as he’s brushing his teeth. The toothbrush’s opened package sits by the sink in a clump of cardboard and plastic due to his rustle with getting it open. It was annoyingly difficult to open. The mirror needs a good cleaning though he notes – it’s coated in a layer of grime. He spits out the toothpaste from his mouth and down the drain. – He turns on the tap for good measure. The water spits and splutters for a moment before splaying out a steady stream of low- pressure water. Huh, that’s kind of crappy. He turns the tap off. Not that he should complain, but something makes him guess the hotel likes appearances over quality.

“Hey,” He calls over to the vigilante, interrupting the tranquil silence. The vigilante looks up from the report he’s writing. His hands stills on the clipboard that leans half-hazard on his leg – the other leg stills from it’s excessive bouncing. “What should I do with the toothbrush?”

The vigilante looks over, “Just leave it there, you can take it with you when you leave if you want.” 

 _Cool, free stuff_. Dan thinks, smiling dumbly at the toothbrush. He was needing a new one soon anyways.

His savior stretches his arms high into the air behind his head. His joins pop loud enough he can hear it from the bathroom. “I don’t think anyone else is gonna want to use it afterward.” He says looking at Dan with his signature half-laugh-half smile. Dan likes to personally call it a ‘ _you’re-a-doof-who-didn't-think-and-I-find-it-funny’_ look.

“You do have a point.” Dan snorts.

“Besides,” The vigilante shrugs resting back on his hands behind him. “I think our budgeting team will be happy that they got their money’s worth for once.” The vigilante smiles and goes back to his work. Huh, Dan thinks, putting the toothbrush in the holder. His group has a budgeting team.

He turns away from the sink and walks through the doorway. He doesn't give the shower a second look, it looks expensive. _I would much rather not break it by accident and have to pay out tons of money,_ Dan thinks.  _Maybe the vigilante group has an insurance team or some that would cover for it though._ He wonders while sitting down on his chosen bed.

His savior raises his head and looks at him. Dan feels like he’s inspecting him. He feels a little small. “Here,” The vigilante says grabbing the papers behind the report he’s writing. “This is from your case file if your curious.” He places it over-top of his other papers. He lifts up the corner of the first page scribbles something on the second page in blue pen. He then turns the paper over, circles something, flips it back over and hands it off to Dan.

Dan takes it curiously, he goes through it. It’s rather professional, he thinks. It’s eerie. The first page has his full name, his age, and birth. It’s got a small description of his appearance. It almost makes it look like those missing posters you see encased in glass – Which really is not a pleasant thought. He’s even got his own little code too. At the bottom of the first page, it has a small description of his powers at the bottom. 

“Did you guys hack the government?” Dan asks, turning the page.

“Mhm.” The vigilante hums, not looking up from his paper.

_Why am I not surprised?_

The second paper has a fairly small report. At a first glance it appears to be about the target list that led to his life being saved to begin with.

_Between 5pm-6pm Daniel Howell’s name was found on a card-based target list inside of a previous assailant’s wallet along with a few other names._

_See [561718-01] [892021-09], [56178-02] For the others listed._

_Further Information is being searched, location being tracked down. I’ve sent out someone to patrol the area. Must be near._

_[End]_

A name is crossed out twice over and he sees what the vigilante wrote. _‘It’s a coworkers name. It’s mandatory that the first log must be signed off.’_

 _Huh, cool._ “It’s kind of funny that you call your partners in crime co-workers. It makes them sound as if their fellow cashiers at a grocery store.” He says randomly, turning the page. The vigilante looks at him like he’d swallowed a lemon.

“Well,” The vigilante pauses. “It’s kind of funny that the government calls saving lives a crime. It makes us sound like criminals.” The vigilante pouts back.

_Geez, this guy got salt._

“I may be studying law,” Dan begins eyes scanning over the report of the first attack. “but that doesn't mean I don’t see faults in the law.”

“How could you not?” The vigilante snorts. His smile is tragicomic – it radiates such a bittersweet feeling.

“You’d be surprised.” Dan smiles softly down at the paper. His teacher has a strong opinion on vigilantes. It surprises Dan that vigilantes get such a bad rap, but at the same time – the world is fickle. The vigilante hums. The third page is a more recent in time. It’s a document of their phone call. There’s even a transcript… _I don’t think I’d want to be the person who had to write that down._

Finally, he turns the page. It’s about the case file. His eyes jump down at the bright blue pen. A giddy feeling bursts inside his chest. Its lodges into his heart. He feels like a little kid again who just had a surprise birthday party thrown at them. Inside the blue ink rests a name.

_Phil._

The vigilante’s name is Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a tad short, I had much more written for Chapter Two, but I'm reworking the flow of it. So the rest of what I wrote will become Chapter three. ^-^


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speculations and Revelations
> 
> [tw/mentions of needles]

 “Phil. Your name is Phil...” He tries it out on his tongue, and despite his head reeling from how fast he looked up, He smiles against the wave. He watches the vigilante look up quickly too. Bluey-green eyes meet his own, a smile alight on both their faces. He’s so happy to finally know his saviors name. It’s much better than calling him ‘that vigilante’ in his head. Not to mention, but the fact that Phil trusted him enough to finally tell him that also pleases him.

“Some vigilantes are more lenient about who knows their names, but I like to establish some sort of trust first. So, I thought it’d be best to show you,” Phil begins, sliding his pencil into the clamp of his clipboard. “Rather than tell you directly because now you've kind of earned it by reading through those boring reports.”

 “I guess that makes sense.” Dan comments eyes drifting to the page. The vigilante smiles and unclamps the papers from his clipboard. Dan watches as he rearranges them into the right order. Phil grabs the mini-stapler near his leg, and he staples it at the corner. He drops it onto the bed with a soft plunk. He reaches blindly for his pencil, eyes fixated on his own writing. The pencil squeaks against the metal, but it slides out easily enough. He flips the page and reads through it. He seems to make corrections as he goes.

Dan leaves him to it and lays down onto his back. Sleep edges at him, but he powers through it. The hotel ceiling just radiates oldness when he looks up at it. It’s got swirls that’s done by dipping a sponge in paint and going to town. - He knows this because his grandmother’s living room had that exact same design. It goes to show that despite all the improvement this hotel room has gone through, at it’s core it is very old. It’s almost interesting, he thinks. Regardless though, the hotel isn’t bad. He shouldn’t complain as it’s better than being dead. Which, he wishes to push that away from his mind the moment it manifested.

“Can I have those papers back?” Phil mentions, hand out.

“Oh right, the papers!” He shouts, eyes snapping open. Like a light-bulb switching on he swings himself up into a sitting position quickly and grabs the papers. His head, of course, protests.

“You need to stop sitting up so fast.” The vigilante smiles amusedly. “Doesn’t it bother your head?”

“It does.” He comments, and hey wait a second. He gives Phil the papers deep in thought. That wasn’t in the report. “How did you know?”

“Our bodies are weaker at night,” Phil comments, simply taking the papers. He slides the reports into the portfolio. “Have you ever had a sinus cold that seems to get even worse at night?” He further explains, he gets up from the bed and walks over to his backpack.

“I did not know that. I thought you somehow magically knew because your group seems very all knowing.”

“Well,” Phil snorts, “We’re not _that_ all knowing.” Phil reaches his backpack. He crouches down next to it and unzips his backpack. He puts Dan’s case file in first, and then the mini-stapler into it, and zips it up. He then, _pulls_ his spiky green vines into existence and ties it around the backpack securely. Dan presumes the spikes are to ward off intruders.

 “Actually, the reason for my head-rushes is a side effect of my power, it unfortunately raises my blood pressure to compensate.” He says watching Phil stand back up.

 “I was going to be surprised if you somehow knew that despite it not being in the report.” He explains, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

“Oh.” Phil turns around. “That’s interesting.” He walks over and plumps down on the floor next to Dan’s bed. “Anyways, we should talk about things.” Phil begins. “I’m really worried about what’s going on. I can’t seem to find any _other_ reason for these attacks.” He finishes. Dan props himself up with one hand and leans back. His hand will go numb soon, but it’s oddly comfortable.

“Like I said, I can’t figure it out either.”

Phil looks down at the carpeted flooring. He picks at it off-handily, as if pulling grass up from dirt. Luckily, he’s not pulling up strands of carpet. _Though maybe I’d give the hotel an excuse to install better flooring._ Phil’s fingers dislodge from the carpeting and find their way to his chin. He taps at it anxiously. “Have you ever undergone any tests on your power?” He asks.

“Not a very thorough one really,” He’s just never cared enough to ask his doctor after the last shit-show.  “Just the mandatory one in grade school.”

“Mandatory?” Phil echoes, looking up at him confusedly.

“Were you home-schooled?” Dan screeches out, his eyebrows furrowed tightly in alarm. Everyone had to go through that bullshit. The only possible way that he can think of Phil not going through the mandatory testing is being home-schooled. He’s heard of a lot of parents protesting often because of the mandatory testing being one of the _most_ morally ambiguous things but having no power in a school. He’s heard that parents who home school their children have the option not to let their kid be subjected to it without legal complications such as putting the custody of their children at risk.

“I don’t think I was,” Phil shakes his head in a daze. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses a hand to his head.

“Are you okay?” Dan leans forward inspecting Phil. He didn’t think vampire pale could get any paler.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Phil says stubbornly. He opens his eyes sharply at Dan. “That still counts though, do you remember the results?”

“Unfortunately.” Dan frowns, leaning back a bit.

_He had looked up at his teacher as she walked in a nervous smile gracing her face. He remembers her being rather a cheery teacher most of the time, so it was a surprise. She stood in the middle of the classroom and announced the arrival of the doctors and nurses as if she was personally beckoning the queen of England into the class. He remembers hoping that it would be the queen. It wasn’t though, it was a big burly man with a big puffy mustache and some nurses who walked in. He remembers finding it funny that the ginger kid beside him choose to hide himself behind his big red_ _binder. It was so red, red enough to make him remember that just because of its appearance alone. Why red, kid, why red?_

Also, how old is he now to refer to children he remembers as a child as ‘kid’. It really does makes him sound old, he thinks. At least he’s thinking it in a fond way, and not in a mean way.

_The big doctor had checked them all over with stethoscopes. Dan doesn't think it actually pertained to the test, but more of a distraction from the nurses who seemed to be really doing all the work. They then split them up into groups based on their powers. Dan went with the fire group but was later moved to the conversion group a day later when they figured that out. These tests run for a good couple of days unfortunately. His veins were hot and heavy, and it wasn’t fun. They poked him with a needle, and he really wishes they hadn't. The moment they did so, the heat busted open making him scream. The nurses had to pull it out quickly and rush him to the hospital to make sure the needle didn’t burn into his blood. It was incredibly harrowing experience as a child._

“I do,” Dan comments, voice dull and quiet. His eyebrows tightly wound together from the sheer unpleasantness of the memory. “We found out that my power lets me take heat from the air and convert it into something storable in my veins. That’s were I get my fire from.” He brings his finger up into the air, like a wick waiting to be lit. He focuses on expelling that pent-up energy from earlier into his thumb and index finger. 

_WHOOFM –_ Flames burst from the top of his fingertips. Phil at least has the decency to look shocked. “You probably already knew that though from your snooping.” Dan shakes the fire out from his fingers.

Phil goes red.

“Sorry about that,” The vigilante laughs awkwardly, rubbing his neck. “What’s this,” He makes finger quotations. “Something storable.”

Dan frowns, shrugging. “I don’t know but the doctors tried to extract some of it. It burned the needle and I was rushed to the hospital in fear that parts of the melted needle had entered my bloodstream.”

Phil pales. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, not the best memory for me.” Dan rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I guess not.” Phil replies. He looks back down at the floor, pouting away into the distance. His hands still in their grip on the carpet suddenly, and his shoulders rise like the hackles of an angry cat. He’s still looking down at the ground when he opens his mouth to talk.

 “Hypothetically,” His voice comes out low, “Someone could want to extract that substance.”

“W-What!?” Dan blurts, mind screeching to a halt. Who the bloody hell would want that, and for what purpose?

“I don’t like it either, but we have to face the facts. The more and more I searched I couldn’t find a simple-minded reason.” Phil rubs the back of his neck. His hair is long enough that it hides his eyes, and he’s still _not looking_ at Dan.

_Get a haircut sometime,_ Dan ever-the-hypocrite thinks to himself frustrated. Though, to be fair Phil’s hair does seem a bit shorter than the first time he saw him in 2009. _Wow, has it already been that long ago?_

“It’s either that, or the other option. For all I know it could be both.” Finally, Phil turns towards him. His eyes look deceptively cheery. “I’ll have to talk to my team about it. It hasn’t even been two weeks yet, so I’ll still call you soon anyways.” Phil picks himself up off the floor.  _What’s the other option?_ Dan thinks, watching Phil stand up. “Get some rest, we’ll talk more in the morning before your classes start.”

“Wait- “He begins, but Phil’s already walking away. He clambers up and off his bed, standing tall and he reaches out. He powers through the rushing in his head, he really needs to stop getting up so quickly!

“ _Where are you going!”_

It’s like pushing his hand through a shattered mirror. The shards fly all around them tugging the atmosphere down into silence. His heart pounds drowning out the light ticking of the clock hung on the wall and the rustling wind outside. It swells up with the rise of his chest and plunges down with the fall of his chest. Phil slowly looks over his shoulder eyebrows strewn down with alarm. The tension in the room flutters as he raises the tip of his fingers to his temple – his fingers are shaking he notes. His eyes arch closed. He sharply breathes in air, and holds it in, before he finally lets it go. He opens his eyes with stunning clarity. “I’m going to have the shower,” He points at the bathroom door. _Oh, he does have a point. He is in line with the bathroom door._ “Where did you think I was going?” Phil gives a tired smile.

“Oh.” The glass shards of tension fall down and shatter against the floor heavily piercing through the heavy atmosphere. It seems like time starts up again, and the sounds of the clock and the wind outside fade back in to existence and his heart beat comes back down steadily. Dan stares, and gapes. He feels himself phase through the 7 stages of grief at his own social awkwardness. It’s like plunging through a bucket full of liquid-embarrassment. His cheeks feel hot as he says “Clearly not the bathroom,” He brings a hand to his face, trying to make it clear he feels bad about causing a scene.

Phil though, doesn’t seem to mind at all. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not very good at social interaction. Maybe I should have told you I was going to have a shower?” He rings his fingers together and turns more towards Dan.

“No problem. I suck at social interaction too. Enjoy your shower.” Dan breathes out in relief, someone who understands.

“Thanks.” Phil smiles. He walks away, and just before he enters the bathroom, He pauses. His hands latch onto the white door-frame and latch on tightly. He seems to make his mind up about something. He gives a nod of finality to the floor. He looks up and over his shoulder. “Enjoy your sleep I guess?”

“Thanks.” Dan replies, watching him close the door behind him. Dan plops down onto his bed with a sigh. He rolls onto his side dramatically. _What have I gotten myself into?_

_But really if it is how he says is it really my fault to begin with? What’s the other option Phil keeps mentioning? I don’t understand, but do I want to understand?_

The great rushing of wind snaps him out of his downward spiral. It sounds like someone decided to place a miniature tornado personally in his room. It’s like someone left the window open, but he swears it’s closed. He even checks for good measure by looking at it.

Yet what he sees shatters his entire thought process. The curtains are swaying in their place, and the stormy night sky produces a fantastical outline of something that shouldn’t be there – More like a person who shouldn’t be there.

Someone is standing in the window frame on the outside of the window clutching a paper in their hand and staring at it weirdly. They grab onto the window frame, their fingers passing through like the glass of the window like it never existed at all. Their foot lodges onto the window frame, and Oh Christ their trying to enter, aren't they?

His mind screeches like a bird furious at being held inside a cage and grabs the nearest thing closest to him – his university level school books and stands up from the bed. His heart pounds heavily. His veins flare up, and he can’t think properly. His mind locked onto how they latch their other foot onto the windowsill.  Is that paper another target list? They climb past the glass and jump down onto the carpet. They look up and stop.

They look at Dan as if _he’s_ the intruder, like _he’s_ the one who doesn’t have a million alarm bells droning on inside his head. The intruder’s green eyes scream shock, their brown curls tucked behind their ear bounce.

“Ah…” The intruder winces. They raise their dropped posture up and bring their hands up beside their head. The paper glides to the floor. They frown at it as it goes.

_A surrender_ , Dan thinks _, the worst home-invader ever._

Dan won’t budge though he grips his books with white-hot fury, he’s seen enough movies were someone surrenders but doesn’t really mean it. He won’t lower his guard just yet. He should call out to Phil.

“It’s not what it looks like.” The intruder declares awkwardly, feet shifting on the floor. They hum awkwardly and decide to do it for him. “PHIL!” They shout, voice caring through the hotel room enough that the entire floor can probably hear it.

Ah, so he knows Phil. Dan listens as the shower turns off abruptly. A moment later the bathroom door bursts open, loudly hitting against the wall. Phil bursts through the threshold with a blue robe tied half-hazard around his waist.

His deep black hair catches on the lights of the bathroom showing a strong shiny gleam. It appears he hasn’t gotten to wash out shampoo is in his hair. It drips profusely. Once Phil get a looks at the intruder, he sighs and crosses his arms tiredly. He leans against the door frame. Dan wants to assume the situation is under control. The intruder shrugs awkwardly, his voice squeaky. “Sorry?” The window-phaser says tilting his head to the side.

The intruder did just apologize, and they seem to know each other. He looks over at the intruder and scans him over. “Don’t be mad, I only stopped the test because of the paper.” They point at the paper rested on the beige carpeting.

“The paper?” Phil asks, voice dubious as he squints at the intruder. Water droplets heavy from the ruminants of shampoo sluggish fall down his face. His eyes flick at it, and he grimaces. He tries wiping it away, but it just splays onto his hand.

_That must not be comfortable,_ Dan thinks.

“Yeah. It was addressed to you. Boss told me to deliver it to you. He sent it through one of his air streams.” The intruder looks at the paper on the floor.

_Stop leaving me in the dark here._ Dan sits down onto his bed dropping his books back onto the floor. Airstreams? What the heck are those? He thinks curiously.

 “So, he sent it to you,” Phil gestures towards the intruder, “to send it to me.” Phil gestures back towards his chest.

“…Yeah.” The window-fazing-probably a vigilante’s voice takes on a peppy tone. “Pretty much. “They shrug “Can I drop my hands now? My arms are starting to hurt.”

“You didn’t have to raise them.” Dan points out pouting. “Also, why didn’t you just enter through the door like, “I don’t know” He feigns, crossing his arms, “a normal person?”

“I wasn’t expecting for you to be left on your own just yet.” The person answers, crouching down and grabbing the papers.

Phil shakes his head, a smile gracing his face, “Of course you didn’t. Anyways, Dan this is PJ. He’s a fellow vigilante. You can stop sweating buckets.”

PJ holds the paper in his hand attentively, and strides through the room passing it to Phil. “Hey," Phil bringing his hands up, "let me finish my shower first?” Phil asks, shaking his hands  demonstrate his point, water flicks off his hand through the air.

“Oh.” PJ comments. “Yeah sure.”

“Great. Make your self at home. I’m going to go back to my shower. I going assume he passed the test if that's okay with you.” He pouts, clearly unhappy with being interrupted. He leaves before PJ can respond, closing the door tightly behind him. He even locks it this time.

 “Ouch.” PJ pouts crossing his arms, the paper hangs loosely in his limp hand near the bend of his other elbow. _Are all vigilante’s weirdly childish at times? Or is it just the vigilante’s I’ve personally met?_ Dan thinks, watching curiously as PJ turns around and sits over at Phil’s bed. “So, you’re the Dan fellow I’ve heard about?” PJ asks, turning conversationally towards Dan. He folds the paper up and shoves it into his pocket. The shower starts up again.

“Yeah. Also, I wanted to ask you. What did you two mean by this ‘test’ thing?” He squints, crossing his legs together.

“Oh, that’s the good part!” PJ proclaims eyes taking on an excited glint. He rubs the tips of his fingers together and presses it to his lips. His eyes dart around the room as if thinking through how to say what he wants to say. He pulls his fingertips away from his lips, eyes homing in on Dan. He nods to himself. “You passed the test.”

“Was that thing you did a test?” Dan exclaims, eyebrows strewn together.

“Oh god no, of course not.” PJ begins waving his hand through the air as if he’s physically pushing the thought away. “If we have to be alone with a client, we preform a test.  So, we know if we can trust the person or not, which before you complain.” He brings his hand to his chest, looking at Dan earnestly, “Has saved our lives before.”

“You’ve been betrayed by people you’ve saved?” Dan asks, shocked. “That’s pretty ballsy of someone.”

“You’re not kidding.” He chuckles, but it has a sad tone to it like he’s trying to laugh and smile to make himself feel better. “It’s mostly been people who’ve been pretending to be in danger to catch us. Or undercover cops believe it or not.”

“Wow.” Dan bulks.

“You’d think they’d have better things to do.” PJ pouts. “Anyways, basically what we do is we have the vigilante leave the room. We monitor what the person does, think or say while their alone.” PJ explains. He sees why someone may think that as invasive.

“Okay, I think I got it. Now, what did the paper say?” He leans forward, excitedly.

“I can’t say!” PJ pouts, looking off to the side. He drags an imaginary zipper over his month. Are all Vigilante’s this childish? he desperately wants to ask, but he needs to stop forgetting to watch his words around people who have the power to kill him.

“Okay.” Dan relents.

“Cool!” PJ claps his hands together. The shower turned off at some point, Dan notes the absence of running water pelting against the shower floor.

After an intense staring contest with the wall, the silver door handle finally turns with a squeak. Phil walks through the door, changed into a teal colored shirt with medium sized grey polka-dots, and black skinny jeans. PJ looks at him funny, and for a moment Dan wonders if it’s because of the mismatched socks.

“Where did you get the new clothes?” PJ asks, watching as Phil gives Dan a little wave. Dan smiles happily, and waves back.

“Welcome back to you too, and where did you think I got it?” Phil says to PJ, crouching down next to his backpack. There is an underlining fondness in his voice despite the sass in his words. Their banting, like close friends do, Dan realizes.

Phil begins to dismantle his vine trap on his backpack, the vines dissipate slowly at his touch. PJ places his hand on his chin, humming softly. “Resident Mom?” PJ guesses sliding his hand away from his chin as he says it.

“Bingo.” Phil says, unzipping his newly freed backpack. Something like glitter sparkles off the fabric of his shirt.

Dan lays onto his back at this moment, and sinks into his bed, he wants to sleep. He thinks, closing his eyes comfortably. This night is getting freaking weird. If someone asked Dan what he thinks he’ll be doing tonight, sitting in a room with 2 vigilantes one of which rudely phased through a window is certainly NOT what he’d say.

He must have dozed off for a moment because-

“-Dan, earth to Danny-boy.” Fingers, his eyes focus onto them and his ears hone into the loud clacks of fingers snapping together impatiently, and the world comes back into focus. The voice belongs to one-vigilante-named-PJ.

“Sorry!” Dan snaps upright, blood rushing to his head sluggishly as he sits up. His head rushes, and he closes his eyes against he onslaught of the colors caused by his head rushing. “I’m just really tired.” He shakes his head and opens his eyes. He wouldn't have this problem, if he wasn't getting up so damn quickly.

PJ slinks back towards the other bed, satisfied.

“Yeah,” Phil smiles amusedly, “couldn’t have guessed.” He’s sitting in front of Dan’s bed again like a guard dog. He doesn’t have to do that, Dan thinks. He’s holding the paper PJ must have handed to him when he had his eyes closed. Dan leans over Phil’s shoulder as he reads through it. Dan can’t make out anything it says though. He frowns.

Phil sighs, closing the paper. “That’s what I thought.” He says into the room. He rubs at his forehead. “It just proved that it has something to do with his powers, and murder wasn’t on the mind of the attackers. It was an attempt at kidnapping.”

“Phil...” PJ begins looking at Dan concernedly. “Maybe we talk about it later?”

“No, it sucks but I want to hear it.” Dan interjects, shoulders sagging. He pulls up the end of the bedsheets and drags it up over his shoulders. It’s like a tug-a-war with the weight of the pillows on the other side until they finally pop forward, and the blanket slinks more fluidly as he wraps it around himself. It doesn’t quite mask the chills just yet, but it keeps him warm for now.

“Okay...” PJ sighs, watching as one of the pillows fall to the floor.

“His power makes a substance in his veins. Someone could try to extract that substance and try to use it in unpleasant ways. It’s basically liquid fire.” Phil looks down at the carpet he’s currently picking at.

“Or...” PJ begins warily, like he’s treading into a sensitive subject. “It’s...” He fumbles with his words, and it seems like he was expecting Phil to pick up the slack. “You know...?” He finishes warily, almost frustrated. He swipes his through the air as if he could make them physically understand with those words alone. Dan gets the feeling that they both don’t want to talk about it, or even know _how_ go about talking about what ever this  _thing_ is. Seeing both PJ and Phil barely able talk about whatever other this thing is with such gravity makes him shiver under the blankets.

Phil grumbles something under his breath. “Somethings telling me that it may be both.” He whispers out, hand drawn to his mouth taping anxiously. Dan feels himself wilt like a closing flower. The bed droops as most of his weight drops down like a golf ball pinging off the insides of his ribs until it settles down at the bottom of his stomach. He stares at the bedsheets. He doesn’t know what their talking about, but it seems bad. Does he want to know what their talking about?

Would they even tell him if he asked?

The bedsheets go out of focus. His begin to water. The stress plunks and pulls like a magnetic tug towards tears. He wipes at his eyes profusely, he’s not gonna cry here he tells himself. He closes his eyes tightly and forces himself to take a deep breath.

He holds it in tightly and breathes it out letting the air flow out of his lungs gently. There’s a vaguely satisfying feeling bubbling in his chest, it almost feels like the feeling he gets whenever water tastes really good all-of-a-sudden solely because he’s dehydrated. He continues this breathing until the stress only seems to tickle at his throat. He opens his eyes, and the world seems a little bit brighter – It’s from temporally plunging himself into darkness his closed eyelids provide. He even feels a little more awake, so it’s kind of a win-win situation.

He suddenly realizes both Phil, and PJ are watching him curiously. “You okay?” Phil asks, this time his voice doesn’t even have a hint of amusement in it. It’s quiet and full of overwhelming concern.

“I’m better now.” He replies, breathing in a breath. “I don’t think I want to know what you guys were barely able to talk about.” He looks off to the side.

“That’s fine,” PJ says this time, his voice is surprisingly gentle. “We probably weren’t going to tell you anyways.” He seems to try to pick up the mood, but it almost falls on deaf-ears.

Almost. “Yeah, don’t worry. I reckon we’ll figure it out eventually. If worst-comes to worst we’ve got your back. We won’t leave you out to sea without a paddle.” Phil eyes shine gently, and he pats the bend of Dan’s leg.

Dan smiles warmly. “Thanks.” He sniffles. A sort of warmth bubbles in his chest. It’s different from his power, it hovers just above his lungs. Then he feels it fan across his face.

“What type of expression is that?” PJ blurts out, gaping at Phil, his eyebrows twitched up, and palm raised up at Phil. He’s leaning back on his other hand, with his eyes are squinted at Phil as if Phil just said the most ludicrous thing he’s ever heard.

It’s priceless, and that watery laugh squeezes out of Dan lungs, taking the warmth with it pass the cotton in his throat, and bursting out of his mouth. His chest shakes rapidly as he closes his eyes against the onslaught of giggles spasming through his chest. His face crumbles up into a smile.

These vigilantes, he thinks, are dorks. It just changes everything he’s thought and been taught in school about that vigilantes. They’re human. He’s human. The government fears uncontrolled change. That’s why Vigilante work is illegal he realizes, in that moment. Vigilante work is saving the lives the government couldn’t reach, but the government exists to give order to the chaos humanity would be without it. It’s undeniable that the government is important, but just like him and the vigilantes beside him the government is run by people who are human.

Everyone has their faults, and the government isn’t immune to it. At the top of all the government sits the queen, but she’s human too. He wonders just how much power she actually has along side prime ministers in all.

What the government can’t probably regulate or control, it fears.

He wipes away the tears of laughter. Phil has joined in with the laughter his mouth wobbly as he tries to cover it with his fist, his eyes squeezed closed as if he’s embarrassed by it. It sounds like music to his ears, and the warmth flushes down his back. Phil’s eyes are bright as his face seems to glow as bright as his eyes once his eyes open.

Dan's tired, and had a rough day, but the laughter seems to expel most of the stressful feelings that were spewing like poison in his chest. He understands now what his mother once said about Laughter. It really is like a coping mechanism.

PJ is still looking at Phil as if he’s crazy, but he’s having trouble keeping it that way. His mouth begins twitching at the seams until it caves into a smile. He brings his hand up to his face. “You’re all Dorks.” PJ declares, fondly.

Dan couldn’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying my best to capture how Dan and Phil acted in 2009. I noticed how in 2009 whenever Phil giggled he usually coved his mouth with his first so I tried integrating that into the phone call.. I dunno about Dan though. Itried
> 
> I hope you enjoyed? Maybe let me know ^_^


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